


warm

by captbuccaneer



Series: howl [1]
Category: Nightbound (Visual Novel)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 04:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captbuccaneer/pseuds/captbuccaneer
Summary: Most likely the bloodwraith will come again, but in the shelter of Cal’s arms, she’s warm and safe and secure.





	warm

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Nightbound Ch. 6. I was lowkey disappointed we didn't get to choose who comforted MC on the roof so here we are lol

She starts at the sound of a gentle knock and swings her head around to see Cal’s upper body sticking out from behind the roof door. He’s hesitant in a way she hasn’t seen before, hunched as if preparing to be rejected, and, well. That’s her fault, isn’t it.  “Got room for one more?”

“Yeah. I’ve got railing to spare.”

He comes up besides her, resting against the railing, his arm a steady, solid warmth against hers. For a moment they don’t say anything – when she looks up at him, he’s simply looking out over the street watching people amble by, seemingly content to be here in silence.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

He  _mmm_ s. “For what?”

It’s a good question. There’s no judgment or guile in his eyes when he leans into the press of their arms to look down at her, but she still finds herself not knowing where to start. Where on earth is she supposed to – I’m sorry your alpha is dead? I’m sorry you had to fight against your own pack to protect me? I’m sorry you’re involved in whatever  _this_  is?

“I’m sorry for brushing you off earlier,” she finally settles on. “When we were downstairs. You were only trying to help and that wasn’t nice or fair of me.”

He’s already shaking his head before she finishes. “You don’t need to apologize for that. It’s ok. You’ve had a rough few days.”

“So have you,” she points out.

“Yeah, well, that sort of comes with being supernatural,” he says, smiling resignedly.

“Right,” she says. “Supernatural.”

They fall silent again.

Below them in the street, a group of friends stagger out of a bar, merry and drunken and carefree. They’re shrieking and laughing in joy, utterly  _human_ in their revelry, and she envies them with a fierceness she didn’t know she possessed. That was supposed to be her and Kristin and Vera, celebrating her quarter-century birthday. Instead, she’s here, in the company of what were strangers only a few days ago, trying to figure out who wants her dead.

“Hey,” Cal says, startling her out of her reverie. He lifts a hand and brushes away an errant tear. “Talk to me.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she whispers.

“Well,” he says, scrunching his eyebrows to feign hard thought. “You helped me find my brother. You patched me up after the fight with the minotaur. Now let me patch you up. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” she says, smile watery.

“Unless you’ve got some injury I can’t detect, because I’d be  _more_  than happy to play doctor–”

She gives a small laugh at that, and he grins briefly. Shifting to face her, he tilts her chin up so her eyes meet his. His free hand finds hers.

“You can tell me anything,” he says quietly.

“I know.”

His eyes are so warm and patient.

The dam breaks.

“I’m scared. I’m  _so_  scared. I’m scared of the bloodwraith, and I’m scared to learn why I’m able to see and do things I’ve never been able to see or do before, and I’m scared one of you or all of you are going to get hurt because of me, I’m scared that you’ll, you’ll–” The awful sight of Kristoff’s body is still fresh in her mind, but she can’t verbalize the thought of even one of them dying. If she does, that makes the possibility real.

Luckily Cal doesn’t seem to expect her to say anything more, because he draws her to him and wraps his strong arms around her, anchoring her. She closes her eyes and focuses on him – the heat radiating from his chest, the hard press of his thighs against hers, his chin resting on top of her head.

The steady beat of his heart.

He’s so  _large_  that his frame could swallow her whole, but all she feels is warmth and safety. As if being in his arms means that the bloodwraith can never find her, never kill or harm anyone else, and she surrenders to the fantasy, just for a moment. She clings tightly to him, drawing strength from his embrace, breathing in his scent, and lets it wash over her.

Most likely the bloodwraith will come again, but in the shelter of Cal’s arms, she’s warm and safe and secure.

And for now, that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ matsuoclan


End file.
